Pain flashes through his eyes, but he quickly composes himself.
“Come back to my room,” he says as more of a suggestion than a question. “There’s still so much to discuss, and I don’t want my sister overhearing our conversation.”
A hint of a smile tugs at my lips. “Good point.”
Miller greets us at the door, and I go in for my customary lick. Braxton is going to run out of washcloths if I keep coming here.
“Taking advantage of your visitation rights, huh?” I give him a pointed look which he returns with a shrug.
“I like pushing the limits.”
I chuckle and then wave to his roommates who are engrossed in a recorded soccer game. After the proper hellos, I follow Braxton to his room with Miller trailing behind.
“Sorry, boy. This is a private conversation.” Braxton waits by the door and motions for Miller to leave. The dog lets out a long whine but retreats back into the hallway. Braxton shuts the door, but the loud thump suggests Miller plopped himself behind it.
I laugh. “He just wants attention.”
“He’s an attention whore.” Braxton moves over to me and hands me the pretty pink box. I snatch it from his hands and sit on the edge of the bed.
“I can finally open this now that you’ve teased me all night.”
“I assure you the wait is worth it.”
The paper is gone a moment later. Tears sting my eyes when I lift the lid to reveal a planetarium projector. I’m not talking the thirty-nine-dollar cheap option either. No, this device is as high tech as they come.
“This is amazing.”
“Just wait.” Braxton clicks off the light and flips the device on. The bedroom ceiling morphs into an overhead space.
“Wow.” I’m brought back to that little kid who wanted to go on the field trip. He made this happen.
Braxton settles on the bed beside me as we lay toward the middle. The tips of his fingers graze lazily along my arm, mesmerizing me. “Did you know they discovered a new constellation?”
I turn to look at him. “I’m pretty sure, if that were true, they would’ve told us back at the planetarium.”
“Aw, they’re a little slow at getting the information.” He grabs the remote and clicks the button. Right before my eyes, a new set of stars fill the space. I gasp at what is splayed across the ceiling. The words “I’m sorry” shine as bright as the northern star.
“How on Earth?”
“I know I made some bad decisions when it came to us, but I’m truly sorry. If I could take back my actions, I would. In a heartbeat. You asked why I let you go.”
I swallow not sure if I want to hear the answer and ruin the moment. But if we’re going to move on, this needs to come out.
“All I can say is I was scared. I don’t want to face my future, and it’s coming quicker than I’d like.”
“Have you made a decision yet?” My heart stills, and I barely breathe.
“Not about baseball.” He clicks the button again, and the next stars spell out “Take me back.”
“I messed up before trying so hard not to define what we had, but my life was miserable without you in it. I don’t want to ever be like that again. No matter what I choose, I want you in my life.”
Another click.
He points to the new set of constellations, and my mouth parts as the threatening tears spill over. I reread the words “Be my girlfriend” splayed across his ceiling.
“What do you think? Can you handle a long-distance relationship if it comes to that?”
I lift to my elbows so I can look him straight in the eye. This is the first time he’s addressed any longevity about our relationship, and I don’t want any misunderstandings. “Are you sure being with me is what you want?”
“There’s a lot of uncertainty in my life, but the one thing I’m sure about is you.”
The conviction in his voice and the certainty etched in his features strengthens my relief. For the first time since our breakup—well, since our Thanksgiving Day fight—I feel at peace. Everything is going to be okay. My answer comes out in a rush. “Yes. Of course, it’s yes. I love you.”
He shifts his body, and the next thing I know, I’m lying on my back with him hovering over me, his weight resting on his forearms.
“I love you, too, Pole Girl. More than anything.” He dips his head and claims my lips. The kiss starts slow and mesmerizing as if he wants to commit every detail to memory: the feel of our lips, the curve of our smiles, and those tingles… God, those tingles zing through my body every time our tongues connect.
Everything escalates to the desperation of needing each other.
He breaks long enough to work my clothes off. When I’m lying on the sheets completely naked, he draws back on his legs with an awestruck expression. “Shit, I thought I lost you forever.”
You almost did.
Not wanting to ruin the moment, I don’t voice that out loud. Instead, I say, “Don’t mess up again.”
“Not on your life.”
I let the last piece of fear go and revel in his touch. The soft way his hands slide over my skin. The way he takes his time with each push inside. We make love under the faux stars shining on his bedroom ceiling. Tonight belongs to us. This is our time. When the day comes for him to make his decision, I’ll be okay with whatever he decides. I know all about baseball players’ lives. I had front row tickets for years.
But none of that matters now. Not when we have each other to lean on.
Chapter Fifty-Three
BRAXTON
The entire championship all comes down to me.
Down by one run with Noah standing on first, I step to the plate representing our team’s last chance. Our last hope. If there is ever a time to prove my nickname, now would be it. But I can’t think like that. All I need is a hit. If I don’t reach a base, we can kiss the championship goodbye.
And that isn’t an option.
Not this year.
The other team thinks the title is theirs. I can see the anticipation, the sweet smell of victory so close you can taste it, plastered all over their expressions. I grip my bat tighter. Sorry, boys. It’s not happening for you today. My lips aren’t ready to pucker yet.
Purdue’s closer takes a deep breath and looks back at Noah, who has drifted off the plate by only a foot. The closer throws over to first anyway, earning him some boos.
He’s stalling.
Interesting.
I call time and step out of the batter’s box. I won’t let the pressure get to me. This scenario is what I live for. We need this win. It may be our only chance. Five of us got that glorious call on draft day. Three have already signed with their respected teams. Garret declined. And much to my father’s dismay, I’m the last one to hold out.
The most surprising person whose phone remained silent is standing on first base. Noah acted like being passed over didn’t bother him, but I know him well. He was wanting to sign with a team. I know he was.
But that means next year is going to have new players stepping up. As I step back into the box, I concentrate on the pitcher and anticipate his high heat.
He sets and throws.
I swing…and miss.
Quit trying to swing like you’re hitting it out of the park, Smith.
I try to regroup by clearing my mind. It doesn’t quite work. Not with this big decision looming over me. To sign or not has been weighing on me since the beginning of school. I know what everyone is thinking. They think I’m waiting to sign after this game. They think it comes down to whether we win or lose. Maybe a small fragment of that is true, but as I wait for the next pitch, what I want becomes clear.
The pitcher throws the ball low and outside. I hold off, making the count, one to one.
Cara will support whatever decision I make. She was with me when the call came through. There wasn’t any concern or dread in her expression. Just pure joy. You can’t fake that level of genuineness. I’m sure on some subconscious level, she
remains a factor, but my decision has to be my own. What’s best for me.
If I choose to leave, we’re strong enough to survive. Do I want to be away from her? Hell no. But if I had to, we’d survive. These past months have been the best months of my entire college career. She’s it for me.
Dad won’t understand if I turn the deal down, and he’ll blame her. I know he will. The easiest path will be to accept the offer. After all, that is the ultimate dream. It’s the damn what-ifs that cause the hang-ups. Well, that and pride.
The pitcher sets and delivers. I see it all: the speed, the slight curve, and my future.
I swing and connect. The sweet sound of metal hitting leather resonates in the air as I sprint toward first base. The roar of the crowd increases as my feet pound against the dirt. I round first base right as the ball sails out of right field. I raise my right arm up in victory and let out a cheer, continuing to sprint around the bases.
Noah crosses home plate and turns to wait for me. As soon as my foot touches the base, he wraps me in a bear hug only to be followed by the rest of the teammates. I get lost in a sea of pumped-up guys all vying to get a piece of me.
Somehow, my jersey ends up in our right outfielder’s hands. He’s waving it in the air like a lunatic. I’m left in my sweaty T-shirt while a microphone is shoved in my face.
After a few more celebratory high-fives, pats on the back, and interviews, my gaze connects with the only person I care about—Cara. She jumps into my arms. I ignore the way Dad stiffens and plant my lips on hers. I have it all. He may not like that I have a girlfriend, but he can get over it. Cara is the only one who makes sure I’m choosing what is good for me. What I want. And I can’t wait to announce my decision.
* * *
The surrounding conversations fade into the background as I slide my glance to Cara sitting beside me at the dining table. Her hair, pulled into a high ponytail, showcases the curve of her neck I love to bury my face in. And she looks smoking hot wearing the team’s jersey with my number on the back. I can’t wait to rip it off her later tonight. She must feel me staring because she turns and flashes me that genuine smile, but there’s a hint of questioning behind those deep brown eyes of hers.
Yeah, I’m sitting around the table with family and friends thinking about wicked things to do to you.
“Maybe we should skip the celebration party and head straight to your room.”
“And let your teammates down.” Her tone makes her words more of a question than a statement. “I’m pretty sure they want their star player to show up.”
“Fine.” I let out an exaggerated sigh and settle for placing my hand on her thigh. When her fingers settle on top of mine, everything feels right, and I know the decision I have made is the right one.
I just wish I could’ve told her first before coming to the restaurant.
Dad made sure that never happened. Whether intentional or not, he never left my side and insisted on taking the champs—his words, not mine—out for a celebratory meal.
I glance around the table. Noah’s mother, who hardly ever steps out of their house, is here having a deep conversation with Mom. Shannon laughs over something Noah tells her, and Garret and Dad recall a play during the fourth inning.
Everyone I love is here. The timing couldn’t be any more perfect to let them know my fate. I clear my throat.
“I’ve made my decision,” I announce. The noise level dips as everyone turns their attention to me. Cara squeezes my hand, which I take as encouragement and continue, “There is a lot riding on this decision, and I didn’t take it lightly. A lot of consideration went into this. But what’s best for me is to defer their offer, and hope they reconsider me for next year.”
My dad’s glass slams on the table as anger flashes in his eyes. “Don’t make this mistake.”
“I don’t see getting my degree as a mistake.”
“And what happens if you get injured and never get another chance? This is a huge risk.”
“What if I get injured before spring training and don’t have a career?” I deadpan. The rest of the people remain quiet as Dad and I eye each other, neither one wanting to yield. He knows my point. Hell, he’s lived it. People become injured either before or after they sign. If they don’t have anything to fall back on, they have to scramble with figuring out what to do. My dad was lucky. He came from money and could finish his college degree while taking care of a newly pregnant wife. And yes, I would have the same opportunity if that happened to me. My parents wouldn’t let me fail. And yes, staying in school comes with its own risk of potential injuries and never having another shot at the major’s again. But I want to do this on my own. This is what I want.
“Is this because of her? You don’t want to leave her?” He points to Cara who bristles beside me.
“Don’t you get it?” I shake my head, disgust dripping off every syllable. “Cara is the only one who hasn’t tried to influence my decision. Of course, I don’t want to leave her, but it’s inevitable if I’m going to play professional ball. Whether it’s now or next year, we’ll still be apart. But I love her, Dad. We’ll be good either way. What I want right now is to graduate. Why is that so hard to understand?”
“You’re pissing away a good opportunity.”
“I’m sorry you see it that way, but I’m going to do what’s best for me.” Because it’s my life.
“Dear, maybe, now isn’t the best time to discuss this,” Mom says, trying to calm Dad down. Everyone else remains quiet, not moving an inch. Except for Noah. He gives me a slight nod. He’s had front row seats to my mental struggles all year long.
Dad takes a calming breath, and I see the moment the fight leaves him. “I don’t understand. I thought this is what you wanted.”
“It is…just not right now. Will it be a mistake? I don’t know. But it’s my mistake to make.”
He nods. The tightness in his jaw lets me know he’s unhappy, but there’s a hint of understanding in his eyes. Dad surprises me when he picks his glass up and eyes the group. “Well then, to education and another year of playing ball together.”
“Hear, hear,” Garret says.
Seemingly relieved, everyone clinks their glasses together. It won’t be easy dealing with the aftermath, but when my girl turns to me with nothing but pride shining in her eyes, I know I can handle whatever gets tossed my way.
I lean in next to her. “I love you.”
The corners of her mouth lifts into a warm smile. She’s so beautiful. “I love you, too.”
“I’m being serious. Let’s ditch the party.”
She shakes her head. “Modern-day Babe Ruth is the man of the hour. He can’t miss.”
“Fine, but we’re not staying long.”
“Now that, I’ll agree to.”
Our future may still have roadblocks ahead, but she’s the constant in my life of uncertainty. She’s it for me. Is it so bad that I want the rest of our lives to begin now?
Unable to contain myself, I erase the gap between us and plant a soft kiss on her lips. Everything will work out for us in the end. I know it will.
* * *
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Behind the Count Excerpt
Shannon
Prologue
Eleven Years Ago
“Guys don’t wear bracelets,” Braxton says as we descend the stairs to the underground garage. I roll my eyes. Older brothers can be so annoying.
“It’s a good luck charm to make Noah happy.” I clutch the strand of beads tighter. My brother’s best friend has been sad ever since his dad died. Even though Mom says it’s a blessing—whatever that means—I feel sorry for him. I wouldn’t want my daddy gone.
“I think it’s sweet that you made him something, honey.” Mom follows her words with a genuine smile, but the popping sound from the trunk’s release cuts her reassurance short. I climb into the booster seat and strap myself in. I hate this seat. Seven years old is too big for a baby seat.
“But why do we have to pick Noah up? It’s a tournament. Mrs. Geren should want to be there.” Braxton tosses his baseball gear into the trunk of the black Mercedes and then hops onto the front seat.
“She’s…still upset. It’s been a long, tiring process.”
I toy with the soft leather straps housing the beads that took me hours to string. Noah’s going to like this. I know he will. Out of all of Braxton’s friends, he’s the only one who pays attention to me. He’s my friend, too.
“Yeah, I get that, but she should want to go. This tournament’s a big deal. We’re going to be the champions.”
Mom’s sigh resonates inside the cabin as she places the car in reverse. The low lighting flickers across her face highlighting her tired lines. “I know, but it’s too soon.”
SWINGING STRIKE: Cessna U Wildcats Book One Page 32